


Part 6 – Into the Wild

by Nesrie, Paladin (Nesrie)



Series: Home [6]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Blood and Violence, Gun Violence, Light Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24844831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesrie/pseuds/Nesrie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesrie/pseuds/Paladin
Summary: John's got Arthur, so everything should be smooth now right? Except... well there's the part where he kind of forgot to talk to Abigail about it. He's still not at ease around his son. Bears and wolves and a pissed off horse keep things from settling too. Who knew "normal" could be so hard?
Relationships: John Marston & Arthur Morgan, John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Series: Home [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1321991
Comments: 18
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1 - Arthur Marston

It’d been a few days since they sold the herd when John entered the kitchen after milking the cow, feeding the chickens and spent a little time trying to do something about a big hole filling with water near the area Abigail hung the laundry. He wasn’t really sure what else do except put some dirt in there and hope it not fill again. The morning’s effort left his boots muddy, his fingernails packed with wet earth and would’ve led to a sour mood if it wasn’t for the fact that he got to wake up every day looking forward to seeing Arthur, even for morning meals. Wisely John used yesterday’s wash water to rinse his boots outside and entered the kitchen ready to eat with the others although from the looks of the old and dirty dishes stacked on the counter both Jack and Arthur must’ve already ate while he was messing around in the mud like some sort of swine. 

“What was their hurry?” John asked as he sat down, running his hands along his old jeans and hoping his wife didn’t bother him too much about soiled fingers.

“Oh Arthur said something about letting Jack help him brush the horses and maybe riding one around awhile in the corral since it’s dry while he cleans out QuickSpeed’s hooves.” Abigail wore one of her brown mended dresses today, the kind she kept around for days of hard work, the kind of dress she had the most of. Hell rags wouldn’t dim her appeal anyway, not to his eyes.

John gave a brief nod and kept his muses to himself because he still couldn’t see himself becoming sappy all the time like that. If Arthur intended for Jack to ride, it’d be Rachel or one of the Morgans which his boy could probably handle without too much risk. None of them spooked near as bad as that damn Thoroughbred of Arthur’s. Receiving no scolding, John figured it was safe to eat his mush, and drink his coffee since Abigail didn’t make much of a fuss about Jack’s safety either except when John put his tin cup down there she was, hands on her hips, scowl on her face just sort of looking at him. “What I do?”

“You wanna tell me why Arthur told me it’s Marston now when he went out this morning?”

John frowned briefly, confused. “He said what?”

“John so help me God if I have to pull this out of you you’ll wish you’d fallen in that hole and stayed in it. Why is Arthur telling me to call him Arthur Marston now?”

“Oh that. Yeah, well, you see, we kind of got married in town.” Abigail’s expression changed only somewhat, and John had to measure quickly if that was a good response or a bad one. Maybe a mouth full of coffee might fend her off for a moment; he drank deep.

“So you telling me we need to sleep with shotguns under our pillows for when the lawmen come here to hang you two?”

John swallowed and stood. “Come on Abigail. I’m not that stupid, and you know for damn sure Arthur ain’t. We didn’t get in front of anyone or nothing like that.” He approached her like she was an angry dog, real slow like. “I meant to tell you about it, but we got back and got busy just how you like it. I was doing something from sunup to sundown most days just getting ready for all this wet and cold.”

“You’re about as subtle as a rampaging boar John Marston, and you could’ve at least warned me you planned on asking him.”

John placed a hand on her shoulder, ran his thumb along the soft pliable skin that hid a prominent bone there, and when she didn’t hit him he leaned in and planted a gentle kiss against her cheek. “At least tell me he explained it to you some?”

“I asked him after breakfast what Arthur Morgan was up to this fine early morning with my son in tow so excited. He grunted at me it’s Arthur Marston now, told me about the horses and then just left. Between the two of you, it’s a miracle I ever know what is going on around here.” Her loosening shoulders suggested the anger began to ease off even if her tone didn’t let up any.

Well that wasn’t exactly how he would’ve told her, but John figured if he complained to Arthur about it the older man might rightly point out he should’ve told her, his wife, before then anyhow. “I’ll make it up to you.” He assured with no real plan or even an idea on how to do just that.

Abigail snorted and went back to the sink. “You just make sure our son doesn’t break anything on any of those horses out there.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” John didn’t have to duck a flying towel this time because he knew she’d just cleaned them yesterday and wasn’t itching to have to do that again too soon. 

Once outside John took a deep breath while tightening his gun belt and sort of peered around the quiet place wondering if maybe he’d forgotten something, something real important to have ready for when all the snow came in. From here he could see his son just riding in a slow circle on Rachel’s back, wearing his green shirt and pants that were almost too small for him since he could see skin around the ankle. Jack looked almost like he wasn’t forced on that horse to learn something, like he wasn’t about to pitch a fit and stomp off some place to read. Arthur steadied himself on the other side of the corral digging at Quickspeed’s hooves, wearing an old light blue shirt and some dark jeans. He was doing just as Abigail said he’d doing too. And what hit John right in that moment was all this seemed… so normal. He weren’t chasing after some violent gang, no scheming for some money, and no hint of their outlaw past to be seen. Hell he wasn’t actually pining for Arthur either because he had the man, had him for as long as they could breathe and maybe longer if someone upstairs felt ready to like him now. If some stranger came along just trying to sell them something he’d have no idea what they’d been, only what they were. John smiled triumphantly and went straight to the fencing to lean over the wood and watch his boy. 

Speaking of his boy… it seemed a little odd that nothing to do with nature seemed to come natural for their son. Jack spent the first years of his life out in it but somehow despite looking not angry or putout on that animal’s back, he sure didn’t look relaxed nor just right. At least not a hint of terror showed on his face, but he looked tense enough to bounce a penny off. “Ease up son. She’s real calm right now, just happy to get to be outside. Rachel’s real peaceful, one of the best temperaments we got.”

“I don’t want to fall down!” The boy explained, a little tremble in his voice.

“Not a man out there who’s ever rode a horse didn’t fall down at least once. You’re surrounded by mud. It won’t hurt any, and she’ll stop if you do fall off. That one at least cares about her rider.”

Jack didn’t look convinced or at all happy with John’s reply.

John lowered his eyes a moment and tried to think how he learned except that was different wasn’t it? He’d been angry and hell-bent, not scared, stubborn as hell and Arthur, well he was a good teacher, real good, but he weren’t always nice about it. In the end though, Arthur taught him right, encouraged him and more vital than anything else, he didn’t let John quit, quit anything cept swimming. “Try to relax. If you stay all stiff like a board up there your ass is going to hurt something fierce after just a short time.” Then John hopped up on the fence and straddled it because he didn’t have anything else to use to show him. Trying not to get that wood up his crack or pressed against his crotch too hard, John sort of gripped a nearby post and used it as leverage to show Jack how to work his body with the horse instead of against her. John even continued doing it, so Jack could see him each time he went around at least ten times, maybe more before his ass said that was enough. When he got down, he noticed his boy got a little better, still scared though. Before John, before John with Arthur that is, would’ve found that pretty damn frustrating, but instead of losing his temper, he looked to the right and saw Arthur looking at him, a warm smile on his face while he leaned against QuickSpeed. All that frustration sort of melted away, and he tipped his hat to Arthur. “Not sure Abigail would be real fine with you out here messing with a horse while her son is riding nearby.”

“Abigail’s a lot of things John, but she’s still a woman. Eyes on or off him, no way I am going to jump that fence to stop him from falling once he starts. He’s old enough not to need me right at his legs.” He replied quietly. “And he’s doing fine. It was a push to get him to stay on when I brought QuickSpeed out to do some work. Now look at him, hasn’t asked to get off yet.” Since John preferred speaking to Arthur when close-up he approached, giving QuickSpeed a wary eye when a tall ear flicked back and lowered in annoyance. 

Arthur didn’t wait for John to ask the question. “He knows you were talking about him John. Maybe you should find a way to praise Rachel without taking cheap shots at my horse.”

John snorted. “He’s an animal. He don’t know.”

“I’ll give you two dollars right now to get up on him and prove to me you know he don’t know.” QuickSpeed stomped his right leg hard into the ground as if he too issued a challenge.

What the hell? How could QuickSpeed possibly understand anything they said? Then again, Arthur whispered to wolves didn’t he? “I’ll keep that in mind.” John retreated because why mess up a good morning like this? “So I spoke with Abigail this morning.”

Arthur gave him that look, that why do you have to be so stupid sometimes look. “You should’ve told her. Hell John, you might’ve asked her.”

“She wouldn’t have said no.”

“It’s still important to ask.”

God he hated those kinds of explanations. Everyone knew what was going on and why, but for some reason all these men older than him tried to explain to him why talking about it remained necessary. It didn’t make a lick of sense then either. Fine. He would just end this the best way he knew how. “Sorry.”

“You don’t mean that.”

John lifted his chin in a challenge himself. “I don’t know how you get off saying…”

Arthur gave QuickSpeed a good pat on the neck and motioned to him to get back to the stables, and damn it if the horse didn’t head in the direction too. “I’ve had to rub oil on your ass when you were dumb enough to go running through a bunch of poison ivy without your trousers on just to avoid a bath, you don’t think I can tell when your apology is as hollow as your head can be?”

Even though John pursed his lips, he remained determined not to destroy a cold but otherwise nice day. “Fine. I just didn’t think about it, and I don’t see what the big deal is anyway.”

Arthur sighed and headed to the stables himself. “Sometimes I wonder if we’d gone and done something to stunt that brain of yours from growing. If you can manage it, get your son off that horse, so we can get her inside. I wanna go fishing and might get there with just enough light left to do it.”

Normally John wouldn’t mind leaving to go well pretty much anywhere, but fishing might as well be the same thing as getting to do nothing. “I’ll go with.” Okay, maybe he couldn’t help himself. Spending time outdoors with Arthur nearby remained a fine thing to do, any day.

“You hate fishing.”

“I don’t mind it that much.”

“You’ll start complaining after an hour, if that.”

“Only if we don’t catch nothing.” John huffed briefly. “If you don’t want me to go, just say it. I can handle it.”

Arthur lifted his too large and still not quite him brown hat and frowned. “I don’t mind you going John. It’s just when you get bored you get ornery, loud and otherwise bothersome.”

“I’ll bring the journal, give me something to do, practice my drawing.”

That warmed Arthur’s light eyes right up. Maybe the older didn’t need a whole lot to break that hard rock he started out as when all this began, and kept returning to now and then, but that got the work done pretty quick. It forced Arthur to really, really consider what John was saying, and just like when they were kids, Arthur wasn’t about to say no without a good reason to say no. Being bothered couldn’t be a good reason or they’d never would’ve done anything together since the first minute he’d stepped in their tightknit camp seemed to just bother Arthur something awful. “All right. You can come. Get your son off that horse, gear her up and try not to make me late.”

John nodded and grumbled. “It’s not like the fish have a date and time or anything for you to be there.”

“It’s one of the reasons your lazy ass never catches much!” Arthur called reminding John that even as the man got older, his hearing hadn’t let up any.

At least when John went to retrieve his son Jack didn’t resist John’s offer to help him down and actually seemed relieved he wasn’t forced to get down alone. Of course their boy would need to learn, eventually, how to get off a horse without anyone offering him a hand and supporting his arm, but something inside John just didn’t want to have this little effort end in tears or resentment. Maybe it was because of the way he grew up so hard that a part of John just thought he needed his boy to be harder, to be better and ready for a harsh world that didn’t give most a second chance. That tiny thing inside him that he thought died on the mountain with Arthur treasured these moments though when warm eyes praised him even if no words followed. He wanted his boy to know that too, to feel that deep inside him once in a while. Maybe a brief good memory on Rachel meant less lip later when John asked him to go for a ride… maybe, maybe a small but good memory might mean when John died Jack wouldn’t hate him.

“You going hunting now?” Jack asked quietly.

John adjusted the saddle for himself, gave his girl a nice pat on the neck and led them towards the stable. “Hunting, why you think we need to go hunting?”

“For the bear.”

Those words made him stop abruptly and turn to his boy. “What do you know about the bear?”

Jack shrugged and it took all the patience in the world John knew how to muster inside himself not to get frustrated with that. Obviously, the boy knew something. “Jack…”

“Just that, that it’s dangerous and someone’s gotta take care of it.”

“Uncle Arthur told you that?”

Jack nodded and then hesitantly glanced up at his father. “Did I, did I get him in trouble telling you that?”

John pursed his lips briefly. “Did Arthur tell you to keep it a secret?”

“No.” Jack shook his head too. “It’s just I told him I heard you talking about it once, and I was scared it would get me if we went into the woods. He said not to worry about it because he’d hunt it down before long. You’re… you’re going with right?” The boy looked frightened, not just about the bear but probably for Arthur too going at something like that alone.

“You don’t need to worry about anything Jack. The only person I know that’s a better hunter than Arthur is Charles and, and Hosea was real good too. Just tell your mom we’re going fishing. We’ll bring home supper.”

A quick smile and a the movement of small legs told John his son felt both assured and excited even though he suspected Jack didn’t like fish much either. With a sigh John looked at the stables. He’d have to have a talk with Arthur about this but not before they went fishing. He just convinced the man to take him and wasn’t about to be uninvited.


	2. Chapter – 2 Gone Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John isn't very good at fishing. He's not that great at drawing either. There's a few things he's good at though, and getting Arthur to agree to his requests just might be one of them.

Arthur stood at the end of an old wooden dock where the planks expanded a bit and wobbled due to years of exposure and lack of repair. In the cold season, as slick as it was and as cold as it was, it’d take too much time and effort and probably lots of failure to fix it now. He figured come spring, when they’d get a few dry days, he’d be able to come down here and patch it up. Maybe it wasn’t theirs, but Arthur liked the quiet, the way the water just sort of remained calm under the bulging boards this far from the river’s mouth that fed the little watering area. Sometimes a man, or at least this man, needed to get away from the bustle of children and animals and chores and the expectations they all had of him. Sometimes he just needed to close his eyes and hear nothing but his own thoughts and remember things maybe not worth remembering and think of John a little less, or maybe a little more depending on what they were up to that day. Speaking of, in his hands Arthur held two fishing poles because Mr. John Marston didn’t last more than twenty minutes keeping an eye on his. His boy weren’t more than three hundred or maybe four hundred feet around the corner hidden behind some trees spending more time skipping rocks than he was drawing too, and there was no way Arthur was going to let him just prop his pole against some rocks and watch it get dragged away. John started doodling nearby at first, like he promised he would, but after Arthur went and glanced at his journal more than once, John got up and wandered off. He didn’t mean to embarrass John at all by looking at his drawings in a way John used to do when he was younger, the boy being a lot more obnoxious about it then of course. Arthur had found that nosey habit pretty damn rude, but something told him John didn’t leave because of any of that, not because Arthur was curious. He just didn’t draw so well, and John probably felt shy about his lack of skill. Come to think of it, Arthur hardly remembered when he started making any kind of headway himself. He’d lost a lot of journals over the years, things left behind, abandoned or just fallen in their hurry in dodging angry men that got conned or even just tucking away from bullets. Others sometimes remarked he did a good job now, but he’d spent at least a little time in a gallery or museum or two to know better. Artists, real artists, they had something to… say. Those gawkers, the critics and the artists themselves all said so as did the books and articles written about their work. What did he have to say? Arthur decided not much with his drawing because whatever was happening, he just marked right there next to art. He left no mystery, no hidden message and nothing like that. He just jotted down how he felt sometimes and what he saw most the time. John would get better, in time. Hell, John’s drawings might actually be art one day and make more sense with lots of opinion and ideas because when did John Marston not have something to say?

If Arthur spent more time paying attention to the poles and less listening to John skip rocks, rustle some trees and thinking about art, they might’ve caught more. He decided to give up serious fishing shortly after hearing John get so damn bored he fired into water at some poor fish. From then on, Arthur just took a seat on the dock, letting his feet hang over the side, his boots not quite touching the water. Despite the loud bang of John’s pistol, it was still pretty quiet around here, and he didn’t feel any anger over it.

Naturally it didn’t take John long to join him. The younger man plopped right down, shoulder to shoulder, opened the one beer he brought with him and offered it to Arthur first. They drank in silence for a bit, the first solid quiet since they got there. Leave it to his husband to finally pipe down after all the fish had been chased away; Arthur still couldn’t bring himself to be mad. He got what he mostly wanted and knew John didn’t have the patience for something like this so just a chance to be out here, to do something he used to do before it all went to hell, it was still nice. Really, with John rubbing against his shoulder gentle like, Arthur even managed to smile because it somehow felt right. Even if they might return home empty handed, he didn’t go home alone and those who waited there, waited for them both.

**

John sat next to Arthur, their shared beer between as they dangled their feet over the dock. He’d never do this with anyone else, be this close to the water when it was this cold and no cleaning needed to be had. In the spring or summer, well he might just be ready to let Arthur try to teach him how to swim, again, see if they could at least ease up on his fear, try and narrow down the list of things that brought terror to his heart too quickly. He suspected Arthur wasn’t the best swimmer, maybe not even a good swimmer, but he was the best they had here, and if it kept John from drowning, good enough. John reached over and ran his fingers over the fall cooled shirt and made his way to Arthur’s cheek, noting the stubble. There wouldn’t be a beard this year, not when Arthur now knew John liked him like this, just enough to rough up his palm. The older man closed his eyes, visibly relaxed and sighed contently. “You, you like being touched.” Arthur didn’t say anything, so John continued. “I wished I knew that all those year ago. You just seemed so, well like you wanted to be alone all the time, rather not be bothered.”

Arthur’s light eyes revealed themselves, and he glanced at John, a slight frown forming. “It’s like you said before, not good to show weakness in the gang. That and there were just so many times you got on my bad side the minute I got back to camp.”

“But that ain’t a weakness Arthur; it’s just, just being a person.” Something tightened inside John, and he couldn’t really place that feeling that came with something else he needed to say. “We weren’t always just a gang, and as an older brother, you could be just such a grump. It’s like you didn’t think we wanted you around or anything so you came back itching for a fight.”

Arthur replaced his frown with a look of sorrow, and those blue eyes moved back to the water. “When I was young, before you even joined us, I messed up real bad on a job; Dutch was so mad. We didn’t get anything, hell we even lost some supplies and a horse. They took me to a ranch, an old acquaintance’s place Dutch said. I heard Hosea and Dutch arguing, saying the next job was risky, too dangerous for me. I was real ashamed to have done that badly, and I thought… I thought…”

John watched the emotions play across Arthur’s face as the man struggled to explain a story John never heard before. “You thought what Arthur?”

His lover glanced at him as if for a second he forgot John was there. “That maybe they sold me, or didn’t want me anymore. I thought they weren’t coming back. Hosea told me they’d be coming back, but Dutch hardly looked at me when they left. It’s where I learned more about horses. I promised myself if they came back I’d do better, show them I could learn anything like do better with horses; I’d be what they needed me to be.”

For a moment, John just bit his lip, sort of going back in his mind over their time together on the ranch. “You… you don’t have to earn your way into going places with me Arthur.” He hesitantly responded because he only sort of thought he understood what Arthur was trying to tell him. They struggled so hard with this thing because no one really taught either of them how to do it right, so it seemed. This gap seemed less scary now they were married, but it remained just the same. “I just wanted surprise all of you before, and I’d always take you to town with me otherwise.” John’s voice trailed off a bit. Shit. He just wanted to see Arthur’s eyes light up when he saw that tub.

“I know that now.” The man mumbled. “I’m, I’m a pretty good mess John. I thought I said it would be hard being with me…”

“You did.” John assured hoping to cutoff any offers to back out now. “There’s no turning back Arthur. You’re mine whether you like it or not.” He scratched the back of his head and let Arthur finish most the beer. “When they came back for yah, were they nice or…?”

Arthur smiled briefly. “Hosea brought me new clothes. I was growing out of the old ones, and he got me a nice leather jacket, the one I still have, and just a lot of little things. He was real warm with me.”

“And Dutch?” Since Arthur didn’t argue about the other thing, John knew his companion tried or maybe even managed to accept it for what it was.

“He wasn’t unkind to me John. Those two men didn’t ask to have some kid like me to be just dropped onto their laps. I was a real mean shit before they picked me up, and they didn’t always, or even often know what to say or do about me to try and calm me down. I had a good run, for a longtime, a lot better than I was having when I was alone.” Arthur’s words remained easy, subtly sad but mostly just a soft forgiving sound. “It never felt like enough John. I never felt like enough when I came back with what I had.”

John licked his lips. He didn’t get it, never really did. How could Arthur be so calm about something like that? It’s like he wasn’t mad at Dutch or even Hosea for how he felt all those years despite both those men having been the very reason for it. He doubted diving into it now would help much, but John stored it away for later. They’d do this, he figured, for years until John either understood and could help or maybe he’d let it go. When had John ever let something go? “So, after I learn to swim, maybe you can show me some of that other stuff I don’t know, about the horses and things, me and Jack.” He glanced at Arthur. “You was saying Rachel’s a real quality horse, and since QuickSpeed is, well he’s pretty damn fast I was figuring…”

“You’ve said this so many times before, and I don’t need any reminding.” Arthur huffed. “I ain’t ever bred horses John. When you’re running from the law, moving from camp to camp, not a real good situation for a pregnant mare, one you can’t ride or hurry with or even load stuff on. The colt would likely be lost or hurt real bad if not killed outright too.”

“I… I know. We can try though right? The ranchers think beef will stay pretty low for a long while. Unlike some of them I knew that going in, so I didn’t pay too much. We’ve got a little more from that sale to try. I figure horses will be around for as long as folks want them, maybe quality ones for a real long time.”

The larger man frowned and gave John his full attention. “I don’t understand John. Why is it so important to you that I keep that horse? I know he got you back when you needed him to. I know he’s fast, but if things go south for us, he can still fetch a good price.”

“Because of that look you get.”

“Look?”

John peered at the muddy water sloshing around the docks beam down below. “It’s just all peaceful like, serene?” He wasn’t sure he used that word just right, but maybe Arthur would know what he meant. “Even when you’re just digging at his hooves you seem, well you seem right, content even. I know it’s something you enjoy like how I knew when Dutch was really into one of those books he got, how he’d grin and laugh and shake his head all into it and stuff. It’s how Hosea would get when he was getting to play some new umm character, and when you’re brushing QuickSpeed, when you are giving him treats… hell Arthur I know you love that horse. You spend time with the Morgans when you can but that horse, you’re really attached to him.”

“John, that ain’t important. What is important is…”

“No, no it is Arthur. You weren’t given another chance just so’s you could replace Dutch with me, so you can just keep burying it all inside like you did before and make me or anyone else happy.” John swallowed thickly, going back to that time, that time they both experienced with only one walking away but didn’t talk about too much because Arthur came eventually. “Don’t tell me you had to stop with bullets whizzing by our heads to say good-bye to your horse because you don’t care so much.”

Arthur drew in a deep breath through his nose. “John, this ain’t nothing like before. We’re together, for one thing, and I talk to you now, really talk to you. It’s nowhere near the same, with or without a horse. Neither one of those horses has papers, and we can’t be sure Rachel isn’t being looked for.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious something bad happened to whoever rode her last. She’s got a few scars from an animal attack, and was just weeks away from being in so bad shape putting her down would’ve been better. If those two have a colt, we can get papers. We can get someone to see that birth, pay them for it and all. You think, you think it’s a bad idea?” John sure hope Arthur didn’t think that. He was really counting on this as a good choice for them, something to challenge them, and it might even lead somewhere.

“No, no I didn’t say that. It’s not a bad idea. I just don’t want you getting it into your head that I need some special horse to be happy with you. I am happy to be with you John, and I just need you and Jack and Abigail. I just… get sad sometimes is all. It don’t make the rest bad.” Arthur covered his face with a free hand and frowned indicating he really wanted John to understand this point. “I care about my horses John, but they ain’t you. Not a one of them will ever be like you.”

“Okay.” John placed a hand on Arthur’s knee. “We’ll try it then. Rachel won’t be available for a while when it happens, but I can manage. And, Arthur, I know you love me more than you love your horse. I just want you to know that you having a horse on the ranch that makes you happy is important to me too.”

Arthur nodded, he leaned towards John briefly, paused and then returned to his former position.

“Do you want to kiss me Arthur?” John asked after a pause, feeling his neck and cheeks warm at the thought. 

“Yeah…”

“What’s stopping you?” Came the careful and soft-spoken question.

“I ain’t done any relationships just right. I don’t want mess this one up too badly by doing the wrong thing at the wrong time like before. Since we’re having a serious conversation, maybe I shouldn’t…”

John hooked his hand at the back of Arthur’s neck and pulled him closer, allowing their lips to brush against one another, not even really a kiss, just a sign of affection. “You’re different out here, in nature, like when we first done it together in that tent. I like it.”

A gradual smirk formed. “I guess so. I know more about the world without walls around me, more confident in some things just not, you know, this.”

“You know I ain’t a fan of snow, but if we have to hike through it to be together I will. It sure would be easier if we found a way for you not to get as stiff as aboard at home more often though, where it’s warm and safe and we have a fire anytime we want it.”

Arthur ran his strong fingers through John’s hair. “Folks are asking about the danger in the woods, the bears, the wolves and the cougars, falling off cliffs or drowning in rivers. Most the worst things that happened in life happened to me was indoors John or close to towns. That mountain wouldn’t have been such a bad place to go. It was, it was beautiful.” This time Arthur did kiss him, gentle like. “If you actually paid attention to your lessons, you’d be able to make your fire anytime AND anywhere you want John and not be cold for long. At home, I don’t want Abigail and Jack to see us, see me…”

For most couples, talking about pain might have ended any sense of intimacy and sex right there. Not for John, and probably not for Arthur either. He figured his lover tried to explain himself to him in the best way he knew how which often ended in a light lecture too. John didn’t mind that part anymore, not really... “They’ll adjust, already know how sweet you are Arthur. Speaking of my son, Jack might’ve broken a secret he had with you.”

“I don’t really go out of my way to make your son keep things from you John.” Arthur insisted.

“Our son.” John corrected delicately. “And he says you plan on tracking a bear within a few weeks. You plan on going after that grizzly that went after me? Is that why you keep taking QuickSpeed out in the weather, to get him used to it with you on him?”

Arthur ran his thumb gently along John’s cheek bone and then one of his scars. “Well I wish he hadn’t mentioned that. We can’t have that kind of animal between us and town. He’s too far down from the mountains. Something drove him here, and there isn’t anything big enough around that’s going to drive him back up. I’m as good as any to get em.”

“What about the wolves?”

“They’ve had a chance at you twice, and me once. I don’t think they’re going to hurt me or, or you.”

“I want to come with you.”

A heavy sigh escaped Arthur’s lips immediately. “John…”

“I’m not a kid. I can carry and use a rifle, and I don’t like the idea of you going after something like that alone. That bear is big Arthur. You didn’t even see it!” John felt his heart quicken despite his best efforts to present the sound and logical explanation of reminding Arthur he came off that mountain not exactly himself.

Arthur chuckled. “I’ve killed a lot of bear John, skinned them even… I promise you that bear is nowhere close to the largest one I’ve killed.”

John marveled at him, hesitant to point out Arthur’s weakness when this sounded so much like the arrogant son-of-a-bitch from before. “You got em, the one Hosea talked about once, a thousand pounds, a ton… I don’t know, big? But… but no one knows? How come no one knows?”

Arthur stood and offered John a hand. Once they were both upright, he led them to a large tree with a bountiful mound of leaves at its thick trunk and with just enough on the branches to provide a mild canvas once it drizzled just a bit. There he took a seat and helped John down to join him alongside. “I don’t see why anyone wanted to know about all that.”

“It’s not in your journal.” Petty or not, John kind of felt cheated by that. “What else you get?”

“What else?”

“These are animals people hunted for years Arthur. What other animals did you hunt and kill that should be, I don’t know, written somewhere? From that map.”

Arthur ran his fingers along John’s covered shoulder. Whatever doubt the larger man had vanished with the change of topic. “Oh, a white buffalo, a pretty good size deer with a unique patter on his hide, a big boar near the swamps… a few of them John, fish too.”

“And you didn’t brag about any of it?” John didn’t get it although he really appreciated the touching he was receiving now.”

“Meat didn’t taste much better, sometimes worse, tough cause of age. Most the time it was too far out to even bring back to camp. The pelts I got made into somethings, but I didn’t wear it too often. The fish went to a man that paid good money for it. Sending fish by post… can you imagine?”

John shook his head. “No. I guess I can’t. I’ll be good Arthur. I promise, just take me with you.”

Arthur snorted. “Your patience might have been improved with the promise of sex, but John you’ll be whining about rain or cold or just not doing anything in less than an hour. You didn’t make fishing even half as long, and we don’t even know if he’ll come to us or if I have to track it, and tracking in the rain could take days.”

“Hunting ain’t fishing.” John proclaimed. “If you weren’t going to tell me you were going for that bear, what would’ve you told me?”

“I weren’t going to lie to you, if that what you mean. I would’ve told you I was going hunting because that’s what it is, hunting.” Arthur wore his best poker face.

John frowned; that sneaky old bastard still had a few tricks it seemed. “What if I promise I won’t whine or complain… nothing? Two horses can carry a lot more than one. That’d be good meat for a long time for just the five of us, you know, when Uncle gets here.” Those blue eyes considered the offer; John could tell. Any closer to victory, and he’d been dining on it. 

“You’ve not done so good today John. This one I can’t just stop because you want to do something else; he’s dangerous out there. I don’t know…”

“I’ll, we’ll have sex every night. You said yourself, the promise of sex gets me doing anything.”

Arthur blinked at him, now suspicious. “That sounds more like a deal for you than for me John.”

“My mouth then, if you want that instead. I won’t even…” John bit his lip before he finished because he felt pretty confident Arthur would want more than that but maybe, maybe he’d hold him to it. His victory was already slipping away. “I won’t even ask for more if you don’t want it. I promise.”

“No complaining about being cold and wet and doing nothing for hours. No pestering me about sex?”

“Honest.”

Arthur lifted John’s chin and kissed him, real slow but deep like a tease, a temptation and all done with a smile. “I don’t think you have it in you.” The older man murmured against his lips. “But it’ll be fun to see you try.”

They returned home with only one fish. Abigail already made roast chicken, black as coal, but John didn’t care even for one second. He was already counting down the days until tent sex, tent sex with his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I am still here, and still plodding along! Thank you for taking time to read the update, and dealing with my many, many writing mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3 – Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur continues to learn what family is supposed to mean, and Jack's not the only one worried about that bear.

Arthur lifted his sweaty head from his pillow, the house dark without so much as a peek of light coming in through the curtains covering their plain windows. He heard the storm brewing around them, wind and clouds, just drops of inconsistent rain. If it would just pour, maybe he could find it soothing enough to chase away his nightmare, or more precisely, his memory. Arthur saw boots, heavy and turning, leaving him there. His heart shattered; his sick body unable to throw-off his attacker. All of the chaos of those last days just became a jumble of scattered pictures; they still hurt. The returned feeling of it all made his body tremble, and he covered his mouth to suppress any pathetic sounds that might arise and awake the others. 

For about an hour, Arthur tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, trying to return to sleep by burrowing into a pillow to hide pitiful whines, and all he managed to do was fill his head with even more pain, more regret… more heartache. Swallowing thickly Arthur stumbled out of the small bed, gripped the door frame to the hallway and eventually stood there like the intruder he suddenly felt he was. After years of prowling in the dark, robbing others blind, it seemed strange his eyes focused so poorly now. Maybe it was age or more penance for his past. Maybe there was just too much hurt inside him to try to begin to make sense of any of the shadows, but Arthur had begun to know this house, his home. When his eyes adjusted just enough to see more than black, he walked over to the slightly ajar door to Jack’s room, peered at the boy in there, resting quietly. The sight drew a smile, helped ground him, bring him back from the gut clenching agony that tried to eclipse his heart and drain the air from his tight throat. It was good the boy had so few memories that haunted him, young enough that a normal life might never give him those experiences. If anyone had a chance to do well, maybe it was Jack, maybe…

“Arthur.”

Arthur glanced behind him, towards the other open door at the unmistakable call of John’s raspy voice. It gave him another break in the clouds, an escape without too much worry about waking a young boy except John shouldn’t see him like this, shouldn’t have to deal with Arthur’s lapse.

“Arthur.” John called again, a little louder this time.

Fearing he might wake the boy or Abigail, Arthur moved to the other doorway and stood there like an imposing stranger that his mind tried to tell him he was except his heart began to question that pretty quickly when their eyes met. John motioned him forward, no longer calling him but summoning with a quick motion of his hand. Naturally Arthur didn’t move and forced the younger man to repeat the motion. Before Arthur knew what he was doing, he was there, standing by the bed and hoping the darkness might prevent the other man from seeing him, the anguish and the tears. Fuck, had he been crying?

“What’s wrong?” John whispered his question. He looked sleepy, confused but the concern, God help him even in the dark that concern just shone through.

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.” Arthur murmured back gruffly.

The snort told him John didn’t believe him. He scooted over closer to Abigail. “Come on.”

“John. No.”

“Arthur, get in the damn bed.”

“That’s your, that’s your marriage bed. I’m not going…”

“You were in it before, and we’re married ain’t we? Seems to me you belong in the marriage bed just as we do if we are. Are we… Arthur?”

Arthur couldn’t find a spot to focus on on the floor because it was too damn dark, so he just swallowed, blinked a few times, and gave a quick nod John couldn’t likely see real well. When John reached out for him though, Arthur did see that and hesitantly accepted his hand, not at all surprised to feel a powerful grip and strong pull to get him onto the bed. It took a little maneuvering and awkward apologies to eventually squeeze Arthur onto the mattress fully. He gripped John tightly, shielding his face against John’s covered shoulder. “I’m sorry I woke you John.”

“It’s all right.” John murmured against his hair. “We got a few hours left till sunrise.” And then his young lover stroked his back, just steady circular motions that unleashed what little restraint Arthur had left. His entire body shuddered and fought to try and contain the sounds he’d been muffling all night. He shouldn’t be in this bed, bothering John, bothering Abigail with what, silly nightmares and fears and… Arthur quieted down when he felt gentle and soft fingers work along the length of his exposed left arm.

“It’s all right Arthur.” Abigail whispered nearby. “Try and get some more sleep.” And she didn’t sound angry or offended or upset he was there. Where did either of them learn that? No one taught them that kind of gentleness, that kind of warmth even from that gang, his gang, their family he failed at saving. 

His family, supported him now, so Arthur wept quietly because he could, because they let him, and he fell asleep with two individuals gently stroking him into just accepting he needed this right then and there. They just gave it him without him even asking for it.

Being in John’s room meant Arthur should’ve risen with the sun, felt the sunrays color and warm the room, but by the time he opened his eyes, the bed was empty, the blankets and pillows piled and propped against him like a babe. It wasn’t late yet, he wagered, but had to be at least an hour or two past a proper waking time. Hell it might even be later than when he normally got up in his windowless room. Carefully Arthur unraveled himself from the bed and tried to process last night. He remembered all of it, of course, but he didn’t understand it. Why did he feel so low last night, and why did Abigail and John take him as he was? Sometimes he got it, or at least he thought he did, about love, about kindness and compassion. Some folks claimed he gave it well enough, but this… he just didn’t know. He glanced down at his ringless finger, knowing one day it would be there, this thing that John felt compelled to give him, something he could use as even more proof that he was Arthur Marston, a widower, a grieving man with a past no one would dare press too hard into, at least not for a while. It felt like it already was there because John could make some strange things seem so real if he put his mind to it. In John’s mind, this probably all came to light like a well written story the minute he entered that stable and accepted his gentle touching and listened to his stupid story about forcing himself to eat stew. Arthur chuckled. John got so mad when others called him dumb or sorry for the idiotic things he tended to do. The thing was, not many made those senseless actions seem so… charming. 

Arthur lingered a little while longer on the bed but decided he wouldn’t ever be so cowardly as to hide in a bedroom to avoid the others because of last night. Eventually he got up and went to his room to get dressed. By the time he entered the kitchen, strapping his belt on, Arthur really hoped he’d run into John since Abigail and Jack might be out making the most of the dry weather either enjoying it or with chores. Instead found Abigail at the sink wearing a simple white dress with a pattern of something yellow on it making short work of the last of the dishes. 

Courage failed him immediately, and Arthur headed towards the door.

“Don’t be going anywhere without your porridge Mr. Marston. I even put some honey in there for you and a few nuts.”

No man who’d gone without had much of a right to refuse food like that, even if the woman of the house somehow made porridge look like grey street water and lumpy at the same time. Without a word, Arthur took a seat, grabbed his spoon and began eating. It wasn’t so bad actually, just a little strange when it came to texture.

“Before you came here. I never thought any of this would work out.” Abigail took the seat directly across from him but thankfully didn’t insist on having his eyes. She just kept on talking. “John got lost for a bit, determined sure, but getting this land and putting this house together didn’t mean he knew anything about running a ranch or, or that he wanted to. Last night Arthur…” Arthur tensed, couldn’t help but get anxious about where this was going. “Was the first night it all just felt so normal for me. I don’t know what it says about a woman that having her husband and, and a man they both trust and love so much in that bed that it makes her feel safe, like this might not all end with John doing something stupid and violent but it really does Arthur. You need to know that.”

Arthur swallowed his almost porridge too thickly, nearly coughed but managed to hold it in so he could raise his eyes and meet Abigail’s gaze. “You’re a strong woman Abigail. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

She laughed quietly, let her gaze drop for a moment, but then a sort of sorrow entered her eyes, and she paused as if she weren’t sure how to say what she needed to say. Arthur figured she picked that habit up from John because the woman he met that many years ago had no problem letting others know her mind, but that woman had been alone, no one to worry about but herself. “Without that gang, I wouldn’t have John, and I wouldn’t have Jack, and I wouldn’t have you. He was ready, maybe eager, I don’t know, to take it all away again but that don’t change what he started.”

“You mean Dutch?” Arthur said it knowing he didn’t need to.

Abigail nodded her head needlessly. “I don’t ever have to bring him up again if you don’t want me to, but… I know what he was to you, to you both. I GET that. You and John, you don’t act the same when you’re hurt, you don’t react the same when you’re hurt, but you’re both hurting the same. You don’t, Arthur… you don’t have to hide it. God, I wish you wouldn’t.”

Arthur set down his spoon and frowned, showing with that act as much as anything else that he was listening.

“John looks up to you Arthur. He always will. If you were in the, in the ground, he still would’ve only just imagined what you would’ve done and how’d you do it and thinking he was making you proud or even avenging you when he did it. But you’re here now Arthur, flesh and blood and all.” Abigail leaned forward, offering her hand to him.

Arthur felt a pull, an urge to just swallow it all down, get up, gruffly make his parting remarks and go do something, anything, to make this all go away as quickly as it could go away. But he remembered her gentle touch last night, her soft voice. Maybe they were all hurting still. Abigail didn’t mention her name or Jack’s, but they all lost something. Now they had this, and what was this exactly? It seemed to him it could be the start of anything they wanted to make it be. If the law were left out of it, and they could just be themselves, no more lies between them, no more hiding and pretending. The world might not like what they were doing, but the world only needed to know a little about them. His family already knew he could have his heart broken, already knew he could kill a man with his bare hands, had killed a man, and this woman knew he was not about to walk away from her when she exposed her heart like this to him. He took her hand. “He opening up to you now?”

Abigail nodded, looking like she might cry but thankfully for both their sake she just gave him a smile to go with that nod. “Yeah, he tells me things he never did before. He says sometimes he wants to go out again, bounty hunt or rob or something, thinks some days it feels easier than spending hours killing caterpillars or trying to dig a well and not finding any water. He’s frustrated a lot, doesn’t know what he is doing but then he says he gets to clean up and go to bed, probably fucking a man or a woman that night to make it all alright.”

Arthur snorted. That sounded like John. The idiot probably had a big grin on his face when he said that too. “Glad to keep his sex life going to make all his toil all worthwhile.” He paused. “He shouldn’t talk to a lady like that.”

“I ain’t no lady, and you ain’t a gentleman. We can pretend to be those things around everyone else, but us three, we know what we were, what we are and maybe we’ll find out what we can become. Until then, we’ll just pretend to be those things when we get invited to one of those fancy Christmas parties with the large meals and pretty decoration.”

Arthur grinned briefly. “As if we’ll ever get invited to one of those.”

“I’m working on it.”

That made him stop and think twice. “You are? I mean, you wanna go to one of those again?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered what it might be like to be invited to a party with nice people that actually want you there and not because you conned them into inviting you to rob them blind?”

Arthur shook his head. “I guess I don’t know either way, might be nice. They won’t be knowing us though will they, with the lies and stuff.”

“Is Arthur Marston really a lie Arthur?”

Arthur kept quiet.

“And you ARE John’s brother even if you are more than that to him, to me and my son. You’re… mourning your loss. We’re a close family, had some rough years and are rough around the edges. We’re new ranchers, trying our hand with animals and farming some. Our boy is bright, likes to make up stories. Ain’t none of that is a lie. If I, if I get us an invitation will you go with us?”

He wouldn’t be able to handle much more of this, so Arthur stood but gave her a quick nod. “If my family is spending time with the other folks to celebrate something, I figure I ought to be celebrating with them too. I ain’t one to turn down that, just, just promise me you won’t ever ask me to go to church.”

Abigail stood too and smiled. “I won’t be the one asking but others might in the end Arthur. John says he met a few of those nuns you helped some time ago, the ones you talked to, and you weren’t nearly as off-putting to them as you make yourself sound with church going folks.”

He’d have to ask John about that later, find out who he wound up talking to.

“Arthur.”

Arthur paused with his hand on the door knob really hoping she didn’t ask him to finish that porridge. “Yes Ma’am.”

Abigail huffed. “You boys and that. Can you, can you promise me that you will do your best to bring my… our John home when you go after that bear?”

Arthur let go of the knob. “Was it the big or little idiot that went and told you about our plans for hunting that bear?”

“Jack has a wild imagination.” Abigail clarified readily for him.

Arthur gave a nod. “The size of a mountain in his head I’m sure. You know I wouldn’t lie to you Abigail. It won’t be the biggest bear I’ve gone after, and John’s a good shot. We’re doing this to keep us safe, not for the thrill of it.”

Abigail gave a brief nod. “When are you leaving?”

“Hopefully tomorrow. We’re getting closer to the snow season, and I don’t want to track him in that.”

“And here I thought they hibernated long before winter set in. All right, get going Arthur. You two don’t be late for supper.”

Arthur finally managed to get out of the house. He looked forward to working with the horses although inwardly he acknowledged Abigail was right. The animal should be tucked away and not roaming near roads down here, but Arthur figured there was a reason a bear like that would hurry up on a horse and face off some wolves which is exactly the reason he wanted to take care of it. A bear was bad enough, but an injured one could be lethal to even the more careful travelers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating in the middle of the week! I know. I am way overdue on this one but I hope it was worthwhile to at least a few.


	4. Chapter 4 – Learn from Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Jack have a disagreement over chores. With Arthur around, maybe he can help smooth things out.

John ran his cold fingers down the old weather greyed board, only partially concerned about splinters because his mind drifted so far away… well not so far really, about a couple hundred yards away to where his son sat under a tree and pouted with a book in hand. Unless John forbade it, that boy always seemed to have a book nearby. To play nice, he didn’t tell Jack to keep the damn book inside when they started chores today; he allowed it nearby to keep the peace, maybe encourage him to clean out the stables, haul water over to the troughs, to take the wood John cut to dry out under the new shed and have the boy tend to the fall garden for a change, take out some of those damn bugs. Jack got just about two steps into the morning routine before he decided he wanted to do something else. That led to an argument which led to John saying things he shouldn’t have said which led to his boy grabbing his book and going as far as he could and still have his father see him which was, well due to part of the thing John shouldn’t have said, about tanning his hide if he wandered off out of sight. Grumbling, John kicked the cracked board he intended to fix before the evening so no animals could sneak into their barn and get the chickens; he just managed to break it some more, maybe his toe while he was at it.

“What that board ever do to you?” Before John could respond, a set of powerful arms in a warm big coat wrapped around him and pulled him back to rest against the solid form that was Arthur, his brother, husband and yet again a witness to his stupidity. It was like someone up there really hated him this morning. “You think you broke it?”

John exhaled heavily, not due to pain of course. He sometimes wondered if he’d gone too numb to hurt to respond like a normal person anymore, but that warm breath against his ear, the soft way Arthur murmured those words kind of eased off some of that tension and made him really regret losing his temper earlier. “Not sure. I threatened to hit Jack.” He kind of tensed when Arthur’s arms loosened from around him, large hands dropped to his hips and the man carefully spun him around

“Did you hit him?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to?”

John shook his head, not looking at those blue eyes directly. It might’ve been dumb to come clean like that to Arthur so quickly, but Jack would probably tell Arthur about it later anyhow. And, well they were trying to communicate more right, better even?

“Then it’s just words, and we can fix it.”

“We?” John lifted his head and found Arthur gazing warmly at him, not frowning or scolding or even really judging.

“I figure he’s off under that tree over there pretending to read cause you gave him a good scare. I’ll talk to him after we find out if you just ruined your hunting trip.”

A snort escape John’s nose immediately. “No broken toe has ever stopped me from doing anything.” 

Arthur didn’t even respond as he bodily lifted John up onto a nearby almost empty barrel and began working his black boot off. Despite neither one of them saying anything, it surprised John not a little, and probably Arthur too, that the man could lift him so easily after all this time and the extra weight John began packing on. He was trying not to be concerned about it, and Abigail assured him men sort of expanding a bit as they got older was all kinds of normal… cept John didn’t recall any of the other men doing that around him cept Arthur who just got thicker as he got older in a lot of places, all the right places. Hell John was kind of fond of the one location himself. 

“I didn’t agree to taking no injured man with me.” Arthur grumped the silence away and ruined a perfectly good distraction that could’ve warmed John right up.

“Injured? I took a gunshot to the arm and ran up a mountain with you!” John objected and sounded more like a little kid than he ever intended to.

Arthur finished taking off the sock and carefully ran his warmed by gloves finger along the top of John’s foot, feeling around his ankle and finally checked out that bruised toe, lifting and pulling just a bit which hurt but not too much. “Men do a lot of things they have to when they have to do it. You don’t have to go with me John, and more importantly, I don’t have to let you.”

John frowned slightly, feeling his heart sink a bit. The warm feeling about Arthur’s body began to slip away.

“But this looks just fine, probably throbs a bit though.” Arthur paused, and it took a moment or two for John to realize he was waiting for their eyes to meet because as soon as they did, he continued. “And I want you to go. At the very least, it’ll be fun trying to see if you can manage any better than our fishing trip.” Those strong coarse fingers gave the top of his foot a good rub, as if to make sure the blood flowed properly. It felt, well it felt kind of nice.

John let a grin form immediately and that sinking feeling, well it was gone as quickly as it came. “Pretty, pretty low bar you’ve set there.”

Arthur worked the sock back on, gently, followed by the boot and stood too carefully indicating he did feel some strain when he lifted his lover just minute ago. It didn’t look too bad though since the man didn’t grimace or anything. “I like to think I learn from my mistakes.”

John hopped down from the barrel and gave him a light punch to the side since he didn’t want to injure his good foot. “Kind of sounds like your expectations of me has dropped some Old Man.”

Arthur chuckled. “Maybe I just don’t like setting you up to fail. It sure was fun when you were a kid though. You got awful mad when you couldn’t do something you couldn’t possibly do.”

John eyed him suspiciously. “You gave me impossible tasks to do?”

Arthur shrugged and started heading towards Jack. “Only if you didn’t take a minute or two to think about what a stupid task I gave you.”

John removed the old board and added the new one with a crooked smile while thinking back to their youth. He never thought twice about a challenge from Arthur, not when he spent so much time trying to prove to everyone he was better. Of course the one thing Arthur consistently said he was better at John didn’t really believe until recently. And maybe he wouldn’t ever understand why he wanted to be better at Arthur in everything except shooting, but he had a good feeling that Jack having two imperfect fathers just might make all this a little easier and with a better outcome than he’d do on his own. 

Arthur eventually returned after John hammered in the last nail and started putting on the stain. “So he hates me or, you know, not?” He asked quietly kind of mad at himself for not taking time to ask that question in a more intelligent way.

“You scared him pretty good with that threat, but we talked about his book some and how important it is to do his chores.” Arthur placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “He says you’ve never hurt him, but he knows you’ve killed men before.”

“Oh…” John lowered his paintbrush.

“And I told him I’ve killed a hell of a lot more men for lesser reasons than you have.”

John’s eyes went wide. “Why would you, I mean…”

Arthur just continued. “And I asked him if he was afraid of me.”

“What he say?” John wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer to that.

“No he ain’t because he knows I love him. And I told him no one on this green Earth loves him more than his ma and his pa, that this is the life they want for him.” Arthur pulled out a cigarette, lit it; he immediately took a long drag and let the smoke just sort of swirl above him to a breeze so tame John didn’t even feel it. “And he asked me if I was his pa too, and I said… I said to the four of us, yes, but everyone else knows I’m his uncle. He smiled at me, and I told him to finish his chapter and then to finish his damn chores so you and I could go get that bear and know we’re leaving this place and his mother in good hands.”

John laughed softly. “Is that so? And that worked?”

Arthur exhaled another cloud of smoke. “He’s over there getting water now. I told him I’d do the garden if he keeps it a secret. I don’t think he likes bugs very much.”

“Seems like you broke the secret Arthur.”

“It’s his secret, not mine, and bugs don’t bother me none.”

John sighed. “He’s gotta learn to…”

“He’s doing his chores, and he’s accepted that two men who killed a whole lot of people aren’t even going to raise a hand to him. I’d say he’s learning just fine.” Arthur moved in closer, lifted his hand to John’s cheek and kissed him with a slight smile. “And if he’s accepted that, I’d say he’s got a month or two ahead of you when you came to us as the spitting fire devil child you were.”

“Hey!” John objected immediately. “I was younger than him and almost hung!”

“Older actually and too stupid not to bite the men that saved you.”

“I did NOT bite you.”

“Good thing too because I’d’v probably bit you right back. You were lucky Hosea had that pleasure.” Arthur started heading to the garden, and John just followed, deciding he’d clean up later. 

“I don’t, don’t really remember that.” 

“And Hosea wouldn’t be the kind to keep reminding you neither.”

“Neither did you…”

Arthur carefully dropped to his knees and started pulling weeds and squishing bugs with his big gloved hands. “Some things they didn’t need to teach me. We’re going hunting tomorrow. Finish up your chores and get things ready. I want to leave not long after dawn so I’ll…” He paused. “I’ll be in your bed tonight. You should read him a story though, a full story not that stopping too soon he just complained to me about.”

John dropped down to help him, despite it being the worst chore on the list. “Those stories are too long, and he has to go bed.” Despite really wanting to talk about it, John thought twice about stating how happy Arthur just made him by not asking to bed with them tonight. With the man just stating it like a fact, it was better than anything else either of them could’ve said to show Arthur started accepting his place with them.

“Eat faster and start sooner. Be sure to tell him one where the good guys win. He’s worried about us not returning so, give him that.”

“You saying we’re the good guys now?”

Arthur sat-up a little straighter, but he didn’t look at the John or the distant outline of their son or even the horses and animals happy to be out when it wasn’t raining. The truth was, John wasn’t sure what he was looking at. “To that boy, I imagine we’re just about everything he hopes for and dreads.”

That didn’t make much sense to John, but he didn’t ask for Arthur to explain it. Instead he just helped Arthur in the garden until they moved onto the wood and then some other tasks. It was supper time before John kind of realized he’d stopped doing his list and wound-up tagging along with whatever Arthur felt was right to do, like the old days. He also left the table earlier to read his son an entire story, despite the boy being a better reader now, and joined Abigail in bed. Arthur climbed in not long after. John decided right then and there no damn bear was going to take any of this away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got a couple of slower chapters heading into the... shall we say actiony stuff.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard trying to keep everyone's feelings and emotions in mind. Arthur also finds out both John and Jack will abandon him in his time of need; like father like son.

“You’ve got the biscuits and the canned goods?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“And the apples, you were sure to pack the apples?”

Arthur sighed, tightened his saddlebags on QuickSpeed and just offered to take whatever cloth wrapped bundle Abigail had in hand. It’d been like this for the past half hour with John hiding out by the barn, Jack in tow finishing up chores which was just a failed and pathetic disguise for both of them to avoid Abigail’s unending worry. For a woman who’d seen them both ride out on multiple occasions with guns ready to fire at whatever danger they might run into, danger of their making more often than not, she sure played the role of an anxious rancher’s wife well now.

With a white shawl over her plain brown dress and worrisome eyes that aged her just about a year, the hardened woman handed him her bundle of apples and extra biscuits. “I just, Arthur, it’s a big bear.”

Arthur handled the extra bundle with care while asking himself how the hell did he wind up showing more bravery to endure all this than her husband and son managed to muster? “He probably exaggerated. It’s John Abigail; all bears are big in his book. I’m not sure he’s ever seen a brown one up close before. I’ve seen plenty, killed more than few.”

Abigail reached out and gently covered Arthur’s ungloved hand with her cool fingers. “Just come back home to us okay?”

A part of Arthur wanted to simply nod and leave it at that. Another part of him, the part that understood better, that saw in Abigail’s concerned eyes a deep fear he could only hope to calm just a little, and the part of him that knew the boys cowering at the barn were avoiding this very thing, had to give her something more. Abigail was solid, damn right lethal when she needed to be, and she was neither of those things right now. This meant she already achieved what the rest of them were working so hard at, found a sense of normalcy he wasn’t sure he’d ever settle into. So Arthur leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead. “I’ll do my best. You know that. It’s just a bear, not a monster, and I’ve put down monsters before, more fearsome than this bear could ever be.”

Abigail smiled, her eyes lighting up just before he turned and lead his horse by the reins towards the barn, letting the young mount adjust to having more weight and awkward packs on him than he was used to. His horse even huffed a few times and shook his head in annoyance. “Now I want you on your best behavior around John you hear? He still hasn’t forgiven you for dropping him near this bear, and if we get close to it, I need you to keep calm, real calm this time. I know what to do even if he didn’t. I’ll protect both of you.”

QuickSpeed snorted in defiance but kept walking alongside him. Truth was, Arthur felt no small amount of confidence in his mount. They wouldn’t be going if he thought the animal would let them down intentionally. Both mount and John needed to regain their footing when it came to wild animals, and Rachel, well she was probably the sturdiest out of the three of them. Arthur couldn’t be sure, but he figured it was a cat that got her good along her side, and a cat likely took out her owner too. The horse was lucky to be alive with that sort attack behind her and with the kind of animal that wouldn’t be found down here. That meant she was probably pretty good in high country too, hopefully seasoned enough to do John well in the wilderness.

He found John and Jack finishing loading the Morgan with a couple of extra blankets and some old leather straps. Just the two them was never going to get a whole bear carcass anywhere even if they had a wagon, and their horses would have to split it between them. The addition of the Morgan could get them a real good chance at more than enough meat for the winter. With his head lowered, hair kind of covering his eyes and a lip out a bit, Arthur recognized Jack pouting which meant John and him had another round already. Arthur sighed; he didn’t know why father and son found it so hard to get along, but he figured John’s best intentions never did make it to his mouth. What usually come out of that was all wrong and twisted somehow, something a growing boy weren’t ever going to understand.

Arthur gave John a brief nod and walked up to the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder where he squeezed gently. “We’ll be all right. You need to stay here and watch over your mother. You remember how to hold the pistol right?”

“Steady, breathe out and don’t tense when you squeeze. Aim like I mean it.”

Arthur grinned when Jack looked up at him. Like his mother he wore a brown shirt but his jeans were only brown due to some dirt, and his boots looked a little tired, but he figured they could get another year out of them before he outgrew them. Kids sure went through things quick enough. John always grumbled about getting clothes that didn’t fit just right when he outgrew the ones that did. It weren’t always that easy finding clothes for a growing boy when they couldn’t take to town too soon after a job. Stupid boy always waited too long to even tell them anyway that he needed bigger. Jack, well Jack had the misfortune of growing around a couple of men who didn’t know how to earn honestly, at least not yet. “Good boy. Now off to your mom. She needs something to squeeze for a while, fraid that’s you today.” Jack laughed and took off giving John just a quick look that seemed an odd mixture of a glare mixed with fear. “You wanna tell me what that’s about?”

“Nope.”

Arthur shook his head and approached John who looked far too glum for going on a trip he insisted he get to go on. John wore a black shirt to go with matching jeans, his boots fit at least and maybe he’d washed his hair today too although it would be wet and cold now. No. Arthur paused a moment realizing John would’ve taken a bath for this trip because it weren’t the bear he was really after was it? “Awfully early to be getting in a fight already.”

John kicked the dirt and brushed past Arthur. “Just told him to do a few things while we’re gone.”

“Because you didn’t think he’d know to do it, or you don’t trust him to do it?”

“What difference does that make?”

“If I told you to be sure to oil your guns before we go, pack up extra shots and get the big knife so we can butcher the carcass right what would you say?”

John immediately growled. “That I know how to hunt Arthur; I just don’t like it as much as you do.”

Arthur just nodded and mounted QuickSpeed. At least his pale blue shirt was clean, he brought a spare just in case and some soap if they found a spring to get the blood out. The girls never were that keen on seeing him enter camp covered in blood. He just didn’t know how they’d expect him to come back from hunting while ensuring he found a spring or something every time. Eating weren’t always a pretty thing. And John, well John liked clean too even if he kept a rat’s nest in his hair. “Mount up Marston. We’re burning daylight.”

While John favored his one leg just a bit on the count of the toe being sore, he mounted Rachel and lead the Morgan without questioning his role in this although that frown on John’s face told him a question would soon follow. 

It took them a good fifteen or twenty minutes on the path away from the ranch before John finally gathered up the courage to ask it. “I don’t get it.”

Arthur played along. “Get what?”

“What that has to do with the other thing?”

“You mean the argument you didn’t want to tell me about, but then you finally did anyway?”

“I didn’t…” John rode right alongside him now and scowled instantly. “I don’t like be played Arthur. You damn well know it.”

“I wouldn’t play the game if you didn’t make me.” Arthur replied calmly. “And I suspect you like being played about as much as Jack enjoys being doubted.”

“I just want to…”

“You gotta trust him at some point, trust him to do right or wrong but at least let him try.”

“I just don’t wanna come home to two crosses is all.”

Arthur stiffened immediately causing the Thoroughbred beneath him to knicker in protest at the sudden movement. The sudden emotions struck him so hard he maybe forgot to breathe for a minute.

“Arthur…”

“We got a long way to go until we might pick up on his path let’s just, let’s just leave it at that.” Somehow, he ground out those words without sounding too distressed; he hoped.

Their silence lasted only a couple of hours before John broke it with a youthful, downright pitiful plea. “Arthur, I don’t, I don’t’ know what I did wrong back there, and I just, I don’t know how I can do better if I don’t know.”

A part of Arthur, the stubborn to the rotten core criminal who took lethal situations in hand and worked his darnest to make sure the other side got the bulk of the death if not all of it wanted to dig in and remain mad. The other part, this new Arthur, not the Arthur Morgan of old but the Arthur Marston of today knew John was right. On his best days, John stumbled on if not outright trampled on the sore spots of others, either because he was too dense to notice or too overcome with emotions himself to care. Today weren’t his fault. They never told him. For all the faults he might point out in Dutch and Hosea, they let that hurt be his and just his. Maybe it weren’t the right way to handle it. Maybe it would’ve given them a chance to know each other better had he been more open about THEM. Maybe a good father would’ve never let all that bile settle in his stomach so long that it hurt now, but their hearts had been in the right place with this; Arthur knew that as well as he knew how to breathe. Dutch, Hosea… they didn’t keep Arthur’s pain from John to protect John or anyone else. They kept his quiet because Arthur needed them to. And he needed them to because he didn’t know how to handle it. There was a good chance too he still didn’t know how, but he needed to try and trust John with more of him than before, trust him with this.

“I had.” He swallowed, fucking couldn’t get two words out before he felt his throat contract, get so tight his voice turned hoarse. Shame mingled with sorrow creating a real cocktail of sour in his stomach. “I had a boy once John. I, I didn’t choose him over the gang. Went to the home to just what you said.”

John soon rode real close, and if it weren’t for the attempt to hold it all in while still somehow letting it all out, Arthur would’ve focused on the fact that Rachel and QuickSpeed really didn’t seem that bothered by each other. “What I... what I?” His lover shook his head, confused, visually processing what Arthur just said while trying to tie it to what was said hours ago. 

Old Arthur would’ve got fed up with this and just took off, let John try and find him later or, more likely, circle back and find him again. This Arthur still felt the urge to kick, to get the horse going. QuickSpeed had longer legs and more energy even if Rachel proved the calmer of the two. He might very well win that race even if John didn’t have a makeshift pack animal with him… except Arthur didn’t really want to win. A part of him, maybe just a nugget inside him, hoped John might actually help, even if he could be slow as brick trying to roll some place.

“You had a son but I don’t remember. I would’ve…” John’s eyes finally grew wide. “You, you rode up and saw just…”

“Two crosses.” Arthur responded quietly but managed to keep his tone steady this time. “You were young, and I couldn’t, I mean I was… It was hard.”

“Arthur can I ride with you?”

Arthur blinked in confusion, halting his mount. “You wanna what now?”

Instead of responding, John pulled Rachel to a halt, slid off his saddle, the other lead still in hand and then climbed up behind Arthur who managed to stop just to try and straighten things out. John leaned forward and whispered against Arthur’s ear while wrapping his arms around him. “I didn’t know. Sorry Arthur. I just... I needed to be close to you when I said that. I know it don’t make a lick of sense, but…”

Arthur closed eyes as John’s strong arms just held him taunt against the man’s smaller chest. It wasn’t comfortable sharing a saddle like that, but he scooted forward to get John behind him better. If they wound up riding like this for long, well John would be complaining about his ass that night but right now, in that very moment… John just surprised him. Arthur didn’t say thank you, but he dropped one hand to cover’s John’s to reassure his younger lover he felt something even if he didn’t know how to say he did. “I get it.” And he did too.

Well into the night they rode together just like that and Arthur sort of just dropped little bits about Eliza and Isaac, how he met her and what he knew about each of them, what he wished he knew and how raw it all still felt. He probably didn’t talk more than an hour total which was scattered throughout that long and easy ride, but John kept quite the whole way, and by the time they unloaded a bit off the road into the forest, a weight had been lifted. John and Arthur exchanged knowing glances while setting up camp with Arthur letting John do the bulk of the work this time. If John feared for the very thing Arthur hadn’t known to fear, well that removed any doubt about whether or not John valued his family. Maybe he always had only none of them understood how he expressed that sort of thing. At least this time Arthur knew Abigail could aim a gun, Jack too. They even had a couple between them. Neither one of them would be easy targets and the small secret Arthur still carried with him, about knowing John wasn’t meant to see his end until years later if Arthur hadn’t shown-up, well maybe getting Jack to shoot earlier and patching up the sore spots between them might make it better. Maybe, maybe reassuring Abigail instead of leaving her alone with all those worrisome thoughts might help the marriage some too. Just maybe Arthur being around would be so bad, for all of them. 

Despite eating some pot warmed up biscuits to make them soft and a few apples, and being alone in the tent, John didn’t even ask for a good rub down that night. Instead they just lined their bedrolls together and John let Arthur lie his head against John’s chest, listening to him hum some music. John really couldn’t carry a tune, but Arthur fell asleep anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I admit the summary was a little more dramatic than the situation calls for, but I couldn't help myself!


	6. Chapter 6 – Marston Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are hunting, but not always for the same thing it seems. Deep down, there is still more than a little gang left in them and their old rivalry is not laid to full rest.

The next couple of days were peaceful and quiet. It likely stemmed from a combination of John being nervous about hunting a bear that got so close to killing him as well as trying to prove Arthur wrong about him lacking the discipline not to bother him about his favorite pastime activity. That other thing that left them close, but with Arthur’s heart aching the first night seemed easier to deal with too. The soothing rest together afterward, where John just stroked his hair while they went to sleep… well Arthur felt less and less of that hurt now, like one layer of a secret been peeled away, and instead of leaving an open wound like he thought that would do, cool balm and less weight was left behind. Unfortunately for John, Arthur’s newly lifted spirits helped him focus on what used to be his favorite pastime sport, tormenting John Marston, in good fun of course. When John wasn’t looking, Arthur sort of grinned to himself because at this point, he was pretty sure John hadn’t even snuck off to rub one off which meant his young lover had to be itching and yearning for attention he weren’t going to get until the game was over. For all his claims about being so randy, his younger lover might’ve actually hated the idea of losing more than going without, especially when challenging Arthur. 

Despite the difference in age, the two them competed with one another almost from the moment of arrival. John just seemed so damned determined to best Arthur despite never really having a chance at getting an upper hand on someone who had been doing what the boy was just learning for several years. John won out in the end on a couple of things though, not just with his quick draw and incredibly lethal aim but the one thing that left Arthur so bitter and angry and well, afraid that John might replace him one day with as good as he was at shooting: Hosea and Dutch’s affections. Their boy could get away with damn near everything, say damn near anything and not follow through on nothing and still wind up with a smile, a nod and a welcome spot at the table or campfire. Arthur, he’d have to take off for a day or two after seeing that disappointment for not finding the sure thing stash Dutch promised would be in some stuffy house but wasn’t there, or because a young lady didn’t take a shine to Arthur’s complete lack of charm and their ploy failed, or the fact he just couldn’t run down someone who spotted them fast enough to keep them from having to pack up and leave again. It was just so… easy not to feel he belonged, like he hadn’t earned his spot while Mr. John Marston just dropped himself wherever and acted like he owned the place. Jealousy, anger, it all surfaced too quickly when they were almost boys together, but another part, one that created warmth inside his heart told Arthur he needed look after the boy who’d been so terrified and confused right at the end of a noose. John tried to watch over him too, in his own clumsy way of course, and here they were, just quietly traveling through a forest together looking for an injured bear with barely any bickering at all. Arthur’s heart tingled, and he didn’t even know why he thought about leaving John behind, fear probably, of what he barely knew. Of course every time they kneeled to examine some tracks, ran palms over a tree with its bark rubbed off or even checked out just a pile of shit, Arthur made sure their fingers touched, or to lean in real close to whisper against the younger man’s ear that it wasn’t signs of their bear. Hell one time he got close enough to exchange a kiss but instead just brushed a spider off John’s shoulder. It all left John so obviously flustered that grinning became a hard thing to avoid.

“Arthur, I found some tracks.”

Arthur slid off the horse and walked near John, dropping down to press his hand near the paw print which was obviously too small. “Does that look like a bear to you?”

John rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say I found your bear or that they were bear tracks. Is that, is that a wolf you think?” John’s question ended with a hitch to his voice.

“It almost killed you John, and I’ve never seen it; I say that makes it more your bear than mine, and that’s a coyote.” Arthur lied as smoothly as Hosea tried to teach him. This time it was for a good reason though; John was not at his best self when terrified, and there wasn’t a reason to be afraid of a lone wolf. Most horses let their riders know pretty good when a pack of predators came near anyway. John was lucky he was getting jumpy about wolves again, or Arthur woulda found a way to grab his ass to keep John on his toes.

John nervously glanced at him and then mounted his horse again. “Well I said there were wolves too, a whole bunch of them.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“And they were mean ones too, real aggressive.”

“Went for the bear, not you.” Despite how John sort of yelled that story at him the first time, and then spoke about it in passing a few times since, it sure sounded to Arthur like those wolves saved John from that bear. John even halfheartedly suggested it was the same pack that chased them in the forest which Arthur tried not to think twice about because it led him back to the one thing he wasn’t really supposed to talk to John about, at least according to the mystery man that saved him. Sure, he didn’t like running into an aggressive wolf but a lone wolf, what harm could come from that?

John scowled. “You weren’t there Arthur. It was… they were…”

Arthur mounted up and motioned for John to follow. “If you’re going over how you saved my life again, try to do it quietly while riding and be sure not to leave out the part where I owe you something for doing it.”

“Hey!” John was not quiet in his reply although he calmed down a bit once he caught up. “That was a real feat I did for you. It all worked out even.”

“Spell it.”

“Feat? I know how to spell feat Arthur.”

Arthur glanced at him for only a moment as he scanned the horizon looking for signs of a bear and also just a slight concern about one wolf. 

“Fine. F e e t.”

He decided not to correct him right away. “Whatcha think it means?”

John scowled at him openly now. “It’s like, well it’s like achieving something, like those knights do in those stories. Feats of strength and honor, all that.”

Good boy. Arthur almost said it aloud knowing it would lead to more quarreling, but this time he wasn’t really after fighting with John; he just knew his boy didn’t know which word he was using and this proved a good distraction away from terror about animals. For a kid who grew up too quickly in a gang and didn’t get the years Arthur had alone with Dutch learning from thick and boring books, John did pretty well… even if he had an older brother that reminded him he fell short now and then, just to keep his feet on the ground. “Feet is what you walk on. Two e’s. Feat is what you’re talking about, ea.”

John opened his mouth to say otherwise, but instead his lips closed, he sort of stared at Rachel’s ear and then he did the most peculiar thing, the man upped and blushed on him. “Oh.”

Arthur felt bad immediately because he didn’t really expect to get that kind of reaction from John. “I didn’t, John I didn’t mean to shut you up.” He glanced ahead, smelling and hearing the water before they were able to see it. When he glimpsed to his side, John still looked glum. “Damn it Marston. I said I didn’t… I mean I just thought you would want to know.” And then he saw it, just a twitch, a hint of a smile that might just suggest this was all for show.

John sniffed, extra loud and then rubbed his nose, still not looking directly at Arthur as they neared the river. “Sure Arthur.”

Concern and suspicion warred within Arthur’s head while he watched John and Rachel begin to ford the fast moving but shallow looking part of the river. On one hand he wanted to make sure John was okay, knew he was only joking. On the other hand, he was near damn sure he caught his partner trying to pull a fast one on him. They both grew up with the same men, and if John figured out Arthurs’ game, well he wouldn’t put it past a John Marston more interested in fucking then fighting to try and get Arthur softened up so he might cave in and end this whole challenge just a few days into the hunt. It occurred to Arthur that outside a bedroom, well he hadn’t really been the one to suggest to John they have a go at it, and maybe, well maybe he didn’t even know how to do that. This probably meant John just wanted him to ask him what he could do to make it up to him, and then… sex in a tent again. It’s not that Arthur objected to the idea. He really did kind of like it, but… but they needed to get the bear.

Gently Arthur urged the Thoroughbred forward, kind of surprised that the tall mount made a bit of a fuss about walking on the rocks until the animal stumbled and recovered, the river bed apparently not at all that level and too slippery for even a confident mount. “Hey John, maybe slow her down a bit and be careful. This crossing might, well it seems a little…”

Arthur blinked, saw the horse go down and was up to his knees in water before he drew a second breath or heard the splash. His lungs ached, heart pounded and thighs moved as quickly as he could make them to grab John before the current pulled him away. He got ahold of bit of sleeve and didn’t let go, thankful John had tied that coat tight. It took a moment or two to get John back on his feet, but as soon as Arthur did, John wrapped his soaking wet arms around him, breathing labored and body already shaking. “She, she fell. Is she, is she?”

A part of Arthur understood what happened and what John was asking. Horses didn’t fall that often, usually able to recover away from going all the way down. Rachel slipped and went down, maybe on her side which would’ve caused John to let go quickly in order not to be crushed, despite the water, despite being unable to swim. Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, a horse with a broken leg would be detrimental to rider and mount, but he still cared more about the man than the animal. Holding John close with one arm, Arthur scanned the area and found all three horses on the right side of the bank; Rachel and QuickSpeed’s heads were pressed together, and she stood on all fours.

“I think she’s all right John. Let’s get you out of the water.” The ice from the rivers source made the water so cold Arthur already felt his feet and legs try and go numb; John’s whole body fell in that. Once they neared the horses, Arthur removed John’s dripping coat and strapped it to the Morgan. He got his shivering lover back on Rachel, removed his own coat and draped it over the smaller man, and decided to worry about her saddle blanket and gear later. “Come on Marston, not long. We’ll find a place to camp, get a fire going and get you warmed up. Just, just follow me.”

Then it started to rain.

They found a spot as quickly as Arthur could manage, near some trees for additional cover for the horses and John while he got camp set-up. He had John strip out of his wet clothes and just stand there damn near naked, near the horses for warmth while watching Arthur struggle getting their tent up. He must’ve done this a hundred times, in the rain and wind, but Arthur’s hands remained cold, and his body ached. It felt like lead settled in both his limbs while his lungs burned from the earlier exertion. John’s lips shifted from pale to almost blue, so nothing in this living world allowed Arthur to give up. He got that tent up straight in his third or fourth try and ushered John inside. Arthur unpacked the horses enough to see what remained dry enough to use: Arthur’s bedroll and blanket, neither of John’s. Without pausing to think, just continuing using instincts and experience, he rolled the bedroll out next to John in the tent, had the other man lie down on it then wrapped his arms around his lover while covering them both with their only good blanket. After that, he just moved his hands up and down on John’s body.

“So cold.”

“I know Marston. I know. Don’t sleep just yet. We gotta get you warmed up.” Arthur managed to keep his voice level, almost commanding despite his rising anxiety.

“Gotta, gotta stop using our last name like that. We’re both, both Marstons, now, you know.” Somehow the shivering mass that was his idiot brother managed to crack a joke.

Arthur chuckled and pressed his cheek against John’s forehead, feeling the wet straggly strands moving against his slight stubble. “I do believe you owe me a ring. I’m not wearing the damn thing if you aren’t here to give to me or see it, so you just stay awake and get warm.”

“No fire?” John asked quietly.

That feeling of failure and inability to do anything right started creeping up his spine, but Arthur tried to remain solid and sure, something John might be able to rely on so he could concentrate on just staying alive. “Tent’s not big enough, too much rain, and I’d have to leave you shivering alone too long. It’s all right though. We got your wet clothes off, covered you in a blanket. I’m here. You can draw warmth from me.”

Was it enough? It had to be. 

One minute they were talking; then it was quiet. John felt so cold, but Arthur convinced himself this was working because he stopped shaking so bad, went not entirely still. Suddenly Arthur looked up, and came face to face with a pair of deep yellow and intense eyes as a large furry head pushed itself into the tent, the snout scenting the air; her broad muzzle remained closed and ears perked forward as if curious.

Arthur glanced as the gun he laid nearby, but their eyes locked again, and he just, well he just didn’t move as the large wolf entered their tent, shook her wet fur briefly and then climbed atop the blanket nearly laying on top of John.

“Arthur. I thought you didn’t bring the fur.” John mumbled quietly against his shoulder.

Arthur drew John as close to him as he could, helping his boy bury his face against his neck, more to calm him than protect him. He didn’t think John realized they had company, and he wasn’t itching to find out what he might do when he did. “Shhh. You feeling warm yet?”

“I can feel my toes again.” John whispered. “Hear your heart beat. Mmm, you seem calm now. We’re, we’re okay?”

Arthur ran his free hand down John’s warming shoulder and brushed lightly against the fur near him too. The wolf just laid her head down on the front of her paws and closed her eyes, evidently content to just be there as a source of heat. “Yeah, yeah I think we’re okay John. You can sleep now.”

John never listened to a suggestion from Arthur faster than he did just then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I create tension and resolve it very quickly in this piece. Despite this being one of the larger works for this series, I'm still doing that here too. I thought about leaving things hanging before, but that's more the style of my other work whereas this is, okay well all my stuff is relationship / character driven but this one doubly so.
> 
> I hope everyone is still enjoying it, and yep, I have two key reveals/markers for this works which is what is driving the length.

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, I haven't forgotten about this one, as you can see. I do have... some plans. This one is a little less complicated, maybe even a less exciting... but hey it's fun to write in this period, and I hope this period piece still remains worthwhile for at least some.


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